


sabbath

by ninata



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dark themes/imagery, Introspection, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Making the best of your Noble Phantasm, Post-Canon, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 22:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: The Fourth Grail War has ended, and Kirei Kotomine has a bit of free time for the first time in ages. Gilgamesh, of course, makes an interesting suggestion to 'celebrate'.





	sabbath

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for:  
> -some religious imagery in regards to sin/etc, not super heavy handed. this isnt a "oh woe is me im gay and god hates me" kind of fic  
> -violent/fucked up imagery  
> -i wouldn't label this as "unhealthy" but kirei really doesn't know how to process the idea of their involvement,
> 
> oh yeah, and in this, it's...kind of an established relationship? but kind of not. they're not dating, or lovers, but not really fwb either. they just. y'know

Kirei read the Epic of Gilgamesh ages ago.

Literature like that is hard to avoid, especially with the kind of education Kirei had. So he'd read it. He didn't find it particularly interesting, and it didn't strike any kind of chord with him— emotional, intellectual, nothing. It was a story, and a story is a story. There wasn't much to be said about it.

He knew the nature of the Grail War as well. It wasn't surprising. In short, nothing about the situation should've seemed implausible to him. The man, Gilgamesh, half god, as they said, eyes glinting like rubies, swirling sacramental wine in his glass. The shine of it in the dim candlelight, of all of him, precious and tantalizing. Such thoughts were unbecoming of him, Kirei chided himself silently. But he'd become a different man. Blasphemy became a bit of a hobby for him.

Was that it, then? Was this venture solely to get back at what had formed him? Subjugated him? Sneered at him and made him do its bidding?

Maybe.

Despite all his preparations, Kirei was not fully equipped for the situation. He'd predicted many endings, steeled himself to die for a man he despised, but he hadn't truly expected what came to be.

Betraying the church. Killing Tokiomi Tohsaka. Undoing careful planning. Unraveling the strings of fate.

And him. Gilgamesh. Taunting and encouraging him in the center of it all, a golden idol of chaos. In all those thousands of years between them, humans hadn’t changed at all. Gilgamesh was living proof of that. 

_ Living.  _ That was perhaps the strangest part of it all.

In some strange twist of events, the Grail had chosen him. More as an afterthought, and perhaps less as an actual choice, but Kirei was chosen, nonetheless. A bullet through his head healed. Something fitting for him, an unbeating, cold heart, stuck between his ribs. Somehow, the Grail had granted his wish.

The destruction of Fuyuki. Death and disaster, and Kiritsugu Emiya staggering around like a drunken man, barely who he had been only hours before. Everything he thought he wanted. Gilgamesh, unscathed, sitting amongst the rubble and fire. The curve of his lips as their eyes met. The glint of sparks against the bends of his body, the contours of his chest, the red light of the carnage highlighting the supple planes of his flesh. 

But he wanted more. And for that, he must plan.

The church, he found, felt quieter. Even though his father had already been dead, something about the end of the fourth Grail War brought a hush over it. His study felt more like his own without the stench of dirty work hanging off of papers on his desk. He was considering sitting down to read for a bit. It'd been so long since he'd had a moment to himself, after all.

The footsteps he heard long before he reached the doorframe, a chuckle piercing the still air. He wasn't trying to be covert about it, quite clearly. Not that he had reason to be.

"Kirei." As if he were right behind him, whispering into his ear. Kirei's eyebrow twitched. He turned his head, wondering what favor he'd be asked of next.

"Is there something you needed?"

"Mm, you could say that." Gilgamesh walked in without being invited. This was nothing unusual. "You know, the war is over, now. We stand as near victors. Shouldn't we celebrate?"

"Celebrate?" Kirei asked incredulously. "I don't see a point."

"You never do." He rounded him, standing at his front, resting against the back of his chair. "It's precisely why we should. I have a few...ideas." The tone of his voice made his intent clear. It was almost infuriating how Kirei had become so used to him in such a short time. "There's nothing stopping us, is there? We can indulge in pleasure all we desire."

How slowly the words left his lips. They did have the time. This stasis wouldn't last forever— there was the tying up of loose ends, preparations to be made, the business of a steady source of mana for Gilgamesh. But for now…

...Certainly, for now, what stopped him from indulging?

"I like that look." Gilgamesh leaned forward, tilting his chin. Kirei didn't stop him. Couldn't find a part of him that wanted to push him away. Gilgamesh's jewelry jingled as his hand slid into Kirei's hair, tempting him towards him.

They hadn't kissed often. Kirei didn't like to think about the implications either way. He had never been affectionate, nor wanted to be, but even he could be tempted. He was careful not to move too forcefully. He didn’t have any desire for getting yelled at. His hands steadied themselves on Gilgamesh's waist.

The hands in his hair wove themselves around the back of his head, keeping Kirei close. It didn't appear he was getting away anytime soon. To break away first would be seen as a slight. Tiring, but he could be patient.

Passion was still foreign to him. Was that what he felt, now? Hardly. He was simply passing the time. Passion was oceans away from him. A person like him wasn't allowed those sorts of feelings. Kirei endured many things in his life— this was not something he endured, but that idea was so unfamiliar, he didn't know how to address it. Whatever came over him, whatever feelings or lack thereof kept Gilgamesh’s body against his, he couldn’t hope to understand them. They weren’t his. Unbeating. Cold. Calculated.

"Come with me." Gilgamesh said as their lips parted. Never a request. Kirei sighed through his nose, following him first with his eyes, then his feet.

Among the old wood floorboards and the dreary muted colors, Gilgamesh glittered. Kirei wondered why a person like him would ever linger in such a colorless place. He had seen firsthand the golden light he could conjure with the snap of his fingers. It almost seemed to radiate off of him. Press at the confines of his skin, knowing his pride would never allow its escape. Kirei had never seen his skin break. He wondered with dark humor if his blood would be gold.

Perhaps someone else would fear such flirtations. Wouldn't God forsake him? A poor joke. Like he hadn't already been forsaken a long time ago. With the blood he'd spilt, he'd almost laugh if what some lofty God took offense to was him bedding a man.

...That was what was happening, wasn't it? He had hardly questioned it. Maybe he really was growing too used to Gilgamesh's company.

He was, however, surprised to find himself in his father's old bedroom.

"...And why exactly are we here?" Kirei's eyes scanned the area. Just as he had left it.

"Kirei, wouldn't the perfect celebration be  _ debauchery?"  _ His voice was alight with mirth. Kirei's face stiffened. "To defile this place? Come now, you didn't think we'd stop at a simple kiss, did you?"

Hesitation. Was it that he was opposed?  _ No,  _ came the answer,  _ I think it'd be an interesting revenge.  _ Revenge was one of the only concepts Gilgamesh introduced him to that he truly, unabashedly enjoyed. Brutality did always come easily to him.

Without further ado, this, then, was settled. He'd play along. If he thought too long about it, he’d go mad. His gaze caught on his adam's apple, trailed down. He didn't realize he had been holding himself back from doing so. He took a step forward— and then another.

Ducking his head to press his lips to his neck, he could feel his smile even there. What was this feeling? Hatred? Of Gilgamesh? Of his father? Of everything?

Why did Gilgamesh let him feel these things? He still didn't understand. What was he, a project? Pitiable? Yet he smiled like that. He had no right to smile like that.

Gilgamesh wound his arms around Kirei’s middle, pulling him down into the moth-eaten blankets. A burst of a stale stench flooded them as they fell against the hard mattress. 

“How  _ revolting,”  _ Gilgamesh laughed, a flash of sharp teeth. Full lips, stained from wine. Kirei could still taste it. He stole them, thinking, wondering, tumbling over and over himself, why did he  _ always _ hold back?

Did he want something? Had he not been broken, trained? Was it safer that way? Was it all he knew? Did he know how to live any other way?

If he wanted him, shouldn’t he take him?

Gilgamesh slid out of his shirt, but it wasn’t quick enough. Kirei balled fists in the fabric and tore it apart. “What do you think you’re—?!” Hands under his waist, grasping, yanking his pants down his thighs. “You insolent—!”

What was he becoming? He pulled Gilgamesh’s face to his, quieting his insults and threats with his tongue. One hand keeping his shoulder against the comforter, bare shoulder, broad and firm, so different from  _ her.  _ The other grabbed lower and lower, rocking their bodies against each other.

Gilgamesh struggled with the fly of Kirei’s pants, moving with him hard and fast. He had stopped protesting. Their skin clashed, burned. Kirei longed for that heat, those hands on him, pulling him down like friction could ease whatever this feeling was. Tongues coiling between their lips, so easy it'd be to sink in his teeth and rip it out. Greedily. Winding around each other so tightly, grinding their hips against each other like they were lovers.

He wanted to break Gilgamesh. Kirei wanted to break Gilgamesh like he had been broken. He wanted Gilgamesh to know. Was that strange? He wanted Gilgamesh to know everything, suddenly. He wanted to say things to Gilgamesh that he’d never said to anyone. He wanted to hear his voice, always gently prodding, probing. Why was it him? Why would the King of Heroes choose Kirei, of all mages?

“Kirei…”

When he propped himself up on his hands, what he saw below him was beautiful. Fabric a torn puddle underneath him, his flesh still glowing. Gilgamesh's face seemed flushed, but he was surely imagining that. Tousled hair, lips red and wet.

They were both struggling to breathe right. He could feel the pound of his pulse lower and lower in his body.

“...I don’t know what came over me,” Kirei began.

“I’ll permit it this once.” He almost sounded...quiet. He hadn’t seen Gilgamesh like this before.

Something inside his chest twisted. He knew, however, that it could not be his heart.

“Take off your clothes,” Gilgamesh spoke softly still. Kirei didn’t have to be told twice. He shed his jacket and collared shirt, his cross tossed off without concern.

They stared at each other for a moment. It wasn’t that they hadn’t fooled around before. But this seemed...different. 

Kirei chose not to think of it further.

He moved to grab him, but Gilgamesh held up a hand to stop him. With a flick of his wrist and a burst of light, a vial appeared in his hand.

"...Really?" Kirei looked at it with distaste. "You'd use your Noble Phantasm to carry  _ that?"  _

"Do you take issue with it? Would you rather we forego it?" Gilgamesh unscrewed its cap. "I'd hardly let you treat my body with such recklessness."

Kirei shook his head. He wasn't a fool. Gilgamesh let it ooze over his fingers, his thighs parting as his hand slipped between them. Kirei politely averted his gaze.

"Does it bother you?" Gilgamesh asked breathily. "Taking a man like this? Do you find it disgusting, Kirei?"

"...That doesn't matter to me." And it didn't. Who was he to complain?

"You're no fun, aren't you? You could at least bite a little."

How someone could talk during such a thing, Kirei wasn't sure he understood. It hit him that Gilgamesh was probably used to this. The idea soured his tongue. For the hundredth time that night, Kirei chose, once again, not to think about it further.

"Shyness doesn't suit you." Gilgamesh said. Kirei frowned. Two hands reached for him, one trailing down the front of his body. It grabbed hold of him— still unpleasantly slick. "Ha! What a face you've made. You truly—"

Kirei, who had gotten tired of being mocked for the night, pressed their lips firmly together. Let them fix themselves against each other. The taste of the wine was starting to disappear. That hand was still on him, alarmingly careful.  _ Shyness doesn't suit you either,  _ Kirei thought, taking a hand of his to cup Gilgamesh's face. There it was again— something rising in him. Something he didn't have a name for.

Why, then, shouldn't he take him? Gilgamesh— they were alike. Cruel, hateful people. Violent people. If there was a God, He'd smite people like them. But there wasn't, there wasn't. There they were, killing with reckless abandon, and nothing in the world could stop them. Not Kiritsugu Emiya. Not anyone.

So he took him.

Just like before, almost like he was taking his life. Pushing into him, pushing his legs back, finding even in those sharp intakes of breath, that strain in Gilgamesh's face, pleasure. How wonderful it was to see him gasp like a whore, the King of all Kings, how his discomfort turned to something else entirely. Warping into something hideous. Lust. Arms braced against his back, bare skin against his. His golden bracelets felt cold no longer. He was smooth, skin like a stiff silk, and Kirei wanted nothing more than to rip through that fabric. Render him to pathetic scraps. 

Gilgamesh bit at his lips. Kirei hadn’t even been with his wife like this. Nails caught on skin, tearing scarlet lines. He pulled at Gilgamesh in rough strokes, savoring every sound he made as it passed through their lips. His tongue grew loose— Gilgamesh’s mouth hung open, unable to do much more than groan expletives.

Warmth. Pressure. Every time his hips hit Gilgamesh’s, something deep inside Kirei twisted in on itself. He twitched— he, too, twisted, his lips into something once again foreign to him. His grip on Gilgamesh’s thigh tightened, fingers sinking into that skin. Taut muscles, so tight they could snap. Every bit of the scene— Gilgamesh's red face, eyes shut tightly, chin slick with drool— his muscles, his limbs, bent and stretched in intimate angles— their closeness, that  _ heat—  _ It was...it was almost... _ good.  _ He could feel every burst of blood from his stomach to his groin, the pressure...Kirei never imagined touching someone, being inside them, that he’d even begin to enjoy it. How could he? How could it be any different from a killing? How?

_ “Fuck.” _

Gilgamesh didn’t warn him. He arched into him, yanking a fistful of Kirei’s hair as he climaxed onto them both. Kirei at least had the mind not to do so inside of him.

A bit disgusting, wasn't it? Kirei rocked back onto his knees, Gilgamesh’s legs hanging limply off his, looking down at him again. His body. The glint of gold against his collarbones. His eyes, shining crimson. What was this...sensation? Why did simply looking at him make him want…

...Want what?

What did he want?

For a confused few moments, he wasn't sure. He stared at Gilgamesh in something almost like fear, at the color that rose against his skin where Kirei had touched, his lips parted in a desperate attempt to breathe. Hair a mess, all of him a mess. Kirei's blood throbbed as it started to course back through his body, and he remained completely bewildered for a bit longer.

As he reined himself back in, he found the words he was looking for.

Kirei wanted, more than anything, to ruin him.

He wanted to be understood. His pain, his sorrow, how that pain and sorrow numbed until nothing remained. How he was nothing, empty. How he could never understand what goodness there was in the world.

This tomb of a body. This stupid church, this stupid city of Fuyuki, every worthless person on this worthless planet and how Kirei despised all of them. The Grail, how it could tear that all away. Burn it all. Burn him. Burn both of them.

Why did he want him to know? He couldn't fathom a reason. There was none. But in this moment, Kirei thought of selfish things. Of pushing Gilgamesh down and filling him with all his hatred, his anger, his grief. Those things so tightly sealed, it'd be a wonder if they truly existed anymore. He wasn't even sure he could let them free. But if he could, if he could. He'd stuff him with it until he burst, until all those disgusting things corrupted him for good, drove him mad, transformed him into a monstrosity.

Yes. That was what he wanted to do to Gilgamesh. Surely, that was this feeling.

Gilgamesh’s fist covered his eyes, arm bent just so. They sat panting in unison.

“...You truly are interesting, Kirei Kotomine.”

What was he to say to that? To make of it? He didn’t know anymore. 

But did that matter? Did it matter Kirei could never understand why Gilgamesh doted upon him so? Did it matter he could never be good? It was a simple affair, just as it’d always been. Bodies. Taking them, hurting them, blighting them with his rage.

Gilgamesh…he was another story. His own pride was his downfall. Gilgamesh could defeat any enemy, divine or human, but he could not defeat death. He couldn’t save his only friend. The ending for Gilgamesh was death, his own folly. His pride, and his loss of it. Even in growth, in change, in finding someone he made the mistake of caring for, nobody could escape being snuffed out like a stumpy little candle.

No matter what, he was doomed. A sobering tale, the Epic. No matter how great you are, you fall. You always fall. And you die.

What, then, did that mean? Would Gilgamesh face his hubris, here, too? Would Kirei be the one to smash his face into it?

Beads of sweat mixed with the come, an ugly mess on Gilgamesh’s stomach. If he were to stare for too long, he’d make himself sick.

He may never know what this was. What gripped him like this. But for now, Kirei decided it wasn’t worth his consideration. 

“Let’s leave this room.” Kirei murmured. “I can’t stand it in here for a second longer.”

**Author's Note:**

> oooooof. glad i got this together!  
> fate is absolutely and completely kicking the shit out of me. (to my v3 readers, don't worry. i'll be back.) but oohhhh my god. i have so many more ideas. so many things i wanna write. but i gotta...catch up in NA fgo first. and then i gotta....read a bunch of side material. and. fate/extra. nad. oh god. the visual novels. hhhhhh  
> hollow/ataraxia looks super tempting too. for kotogil reasons. ha , ha ha...  
> uh, anyway! i hope you enjoyed it. it was a labor of love.


End file.
